End of Sermon

Winds of Change

2009-10-04T21:50:00.002-06:00

I figure I'm pretty safe posting a little something right now. It's been so long since I've posted, probably nobody is reading. And I'm ok with that. I'm just toying with an idea that may completely change my life (don't worry, it will be good and I'm not changing my core beliefs or religion or husband or anything like that. Geez! What kind of a nut case do you take me for? A pretty serious one, perhaps, since I am, no doubt, talking to myself right now.). The point is, maybe it's better nobody knows about this current bee in my bonnet on a grand scale just yet, until it becomes reality or until it fizzles as so many of my grand plans do.
See, this is what you get when you pray and fast and listen to prophets. Inspiration. Or is it?
Boy oh boy I am one white hot mess.
Or maybe I'm just finally coming to realize my true life's work.

And here's a fun little side note: I'm going to start rehearsing with The Thrillionaires and hopefully by the end of the year I'll be worked into the schedule regular-like. So, come to the Covey Center in Provo on Saturday nights at 8pm. $7 prepaid on line and $10 at the door.
www.thrillsimprov.com

Stay tuned for more on the life change.

I Want To Believe

2009-01-20T14:55:00.000-07:00

Not Very Christlike But Could Be Fun

2008-11-23T22:11:00.005-07:00

Today I got a pix message on my phone from a number I didn't recognize, but somehow I opened the message before seeing who sent it. Butterfingers. The pix was some cartoon thingy that you could probably download at pornocards.com. (Don't go there. I just made it up.) It said Happy Thanksgiving and had a really lewd and inappropriate moving image for any day of the week, but especially right after church, for Pete's sake!
Then I replied: Who are you?
Then he replied: Mystery.
Then I called the number and I get a whispery, "Hello." Whereupon I launched in to a who-are-you?-I-don't-think-you-know-me-tirade, but he hung up.
Then he texted me: What do u want im in church.
I wrote: I don't think you know who I am. The pix message was in poor taste. Please tell me who you are or I will find out and file charges.
He wrote: What charges? I think your threats r as poor as ur charecter.
The spelling errors are his.
He also sent me another pix.
I was really upset. I called my neighbor who is a cop. He said I could call the local police and they could find him and charge him with telephone harrassment and lewdness. He thought it sounded like a teenage prank.
I then had to go visit some people. When I came back, I wasn't so upset and didn't think I'd call the cops on him. But I did think that I could give him a taste of his own medicine.
I'm torn. Do I just let it go and not give this guy any more of my time? Or do I plan an all out assault involving lots of public phones. Or maybe even my friends' cell phones. Or a KSL.com personal ad. Hmmm...I could have a lot of fun getting under his skin.
Well, I'm still deciding. BUT, here's his number, in case you already have decided.
HAVE FUN!
801-548-1457

drama

2008-11-04T14:07:00.003-07:00

There was drama for FHE. I had decided that it was culture night for family night and announced that we were going to see "Pericles" (y'know, for kids), at the Orem Library (for free!) at 7 o'clock. Things were going along swimmingly with the getting of the dinner made and eaten and the getting of the shoes on. (Even the getting of the littlest bathed and in jammies--why can't I go to Shakespeare at the Library in my jammies?) We were in the truck at 6:30. Plenty of time to get good seats in the storytelling wing.
Except if, as you're getting off the freeway at Center Street, the car next to you hits a pedestrian and drives away!
And you thought I was talking about the play when I said drama. Silly you.
Well the Rose partly pulls over and jumps out of the car and runs to the 12th West intersection, chasing down the hitter. He is joined by another witness. As he walks back, I see him whip out his handy dandy notebook and jot down the license plate. He is a man on a mission. Meanwhile, another lady attends to the hitted. She is mostly just shaken up but is sitting on a precarious stretch of burm next to the off ramp. The Rose joins them. I decided to stay in the truck with my brood, hazards on.
Shortly, but very shortly, a police car is behind us with lights a-flashing. I'm about to get out and explain why we're parked in the right hand turn lane when I see the second witness approach the police car. Ambulance and Fire Truck arrive at the scene. I decide that the hitted is not the only one in a precarious location and move the truck on to 12th West on the south side of the intersection. The Rose calls me. "They want me to give a statement. I don't know how long it will take."
Sheesh. And we were doing so well. I was thinking to myself, "How bad is it that I still hope we make the show?"
Long story short (What? Too late? You know me...):
Hitted wasn't even taken away in the ambulance.
Hitter didn't run.
And we made the show. And it was good. How we love the Jolly Porter.

31:41

2008-10-19T16:37:00.006-06:00

I arrived at the Rotary Park in West Provo at 8:00 am when they began registration and one hour before the race began. I signed up and got my sticker. (This was a kind of casual run, with all monies going to Nie Recovery.)
It was a bit long to wait but I was eager. There was another early bird who seemed lost and nervous, just like me. This was her first race and she said she hadn't been to the gym in a month. I felt pretty good about my condition, as I've been training for 8 weeks (slow and steady...)for this.
But let me bore you with the short story made long. Near the end of my high school career, I realized that I could be in serious trouble, fitness-wise, if I didn't find something active that I liked to do. You see, sports and me, we don't get on well. I played high school volley ball my freshman year. We won a game. After that, I went back to the drama a choir rooms where I belonged, never more to sally forth into the gym but for the mandatory pep rally or don't do drugs assembly.
So, I needed something to keep me from turning into an unhealthy blob. I figured running was a safe bet since all the equipment I needed was a pair of good shoes and a street and all the skill I needed was to be able to put one foot in front of the other. (Although, at times, that too has proven to be a challenge.) So, I ran. Sometimes. Without much purpose or progress. Then, as I began college, I coerced a friend of my sister, recently returned from a mission, and a former cross country runner to run with me. He ran across town to my house, ran with me, and ran back home. He was patient as my early endurance efforts carried me a full two blocks. He taught me form, skills for running up and down hills, and breathing techniques. (Turns out there is a little more to running than just strapping on a pair of shoes and going.)He encouraged me to go a little farther. And in the couple of months that we ran, I acheived the great distance of 2.25 miles. A feat I never thought I could accomplish.
Then I went to BYU and ran sometimes with my roommates. Then a mission and I ran sometimes with a companion. Then marriage and I tried kickboxing and weight training. Then in 2004, I was feeling like I was not finishing anything in my life. I was discouraged at my lack of discipline and determination and focus. I set my sights on a 10K. I used Hal Higdon's training guide for novices and in June of 2004, I ran the Salt Lake City Classic. They ran out of cups at the first three water stations before I got there so I didn't stop to hydrate. By the mile four marker, I just used my hands. Right after that was a steep hill. I walked. I walked one other portion too. I finished in 1 hour and 12 minutes. But I finished. And after giving The Rose and Mr. Man a sweaty hug, I went into the port-o-john and wept. It was awesome. I was hooked on the experience.
Then I got pregnant. Then I got pregnant again. People in better shape and with more, I don't know, awesomeness than me run through the second trimester (Marika) and others run a marathon four months pregnant (Mary), but not me.
So here I am, baby three is 17 months old and I have finally committed to the inevitable. I will run a marathon. Furthermore, I will run a marathon next year. There, I've said it. Now you all have to hold me to it.

Back to yesterday.
Almost. I was using Hal Higdon's 8 week training for a 5K and new my 5K date was October 18. I also knew I would be playing Simon Cowell at Open Auditions that day. I also did not know of any 5K in the area on October 18. Until it was announced that there would be a 5K benefitting Stephanie Nielson on the very day that I was scheduled to run a 5K.
Alisa was very generous and allowed me to be late to Open Auditions. She even made stickers for all the adjudicators to wear about the run. (Thanks Alisa! That was awesome!)
I placed myself near the beginning of the crowd to start and was quickly overtaken by half of the mass. For the first mile, I couldn't feel my feet. I hadn't realized they were so cold. I heard some other runners talking about it. It was comforting to know I wasn't suffering some bizarre neurological malady. The course took us through some quiet residential neighborhoods in the Grandview area of town. Early on, my nervous new friend from before the run, passed me by, but I caught her with about 3/4 of a mile to go. She gave me words of encouragement as I passed her and I huffed something encouraging back. I was feeling pretty strong, though and pleased that I had paced myself. The last quarter mile, with the finish in sight, I found an extra gear (maybe just a half gear), lengthened my stride and finished amidst a crowd of well wishers. Then I heard, "Cotton!" (OK, he used my real name.) There was My Canadian Rose, The Princess, and Mr. Boy. I was so happy to see them. The Rose had worked until 3 that morning, so I wasn't sure if he was going to be up to the task of getting himself up, let alone getting two others ready. (Mr. Man opted for sleeping in.)
Here's me. All sweaty and red faced in my very fashionable Pepto-Bismol colored running gear. Maybe for Christmas I'll ask Santa for some fancy schmancy, high-tech running clothes.

Where I'll Be Tomorrow Morning

2008-10-17T20:57:00.003-06:00

Another Reason I Love This Woman

2008-10-04T08:12:00.005-06:00

Thompson: 'Motherhood Outweighs Acting Success'
4 October 2008 7:24 AM, PDT

British actress Emma Thompson regards "giving birth without painkillers" as her biggest accomplishment in life, despite scooping two Oscars for her film work.

The Love Actually star, 49, went through in vitro fertilisation (IVF) treatment to have her only daughter Gaia, nine, with actor husband Greg Wise.

And she admits that she is more proud of going into labour without the need for drugs than she is about her career success.

She tells Britain's Easy Living magazine that her happiest moment was "just after giving birth without painkillers".

However, she confesses to harbouring an unfulfilled ambition - to expand her family.

When asked what her biggest regret was, she told the publication: "Not having been able to have more children."

Thompson turned to adoption in 2003 when she informally took in then 16-year-old Rwandan refugee Tindyebwa Agaba, who she refers to as "my son".

I know a lot of women who have done just what she has done (myself included-except the adopting a Rwandan refugee--it's on my to-do list)and don't get a write up in a magazine, but she's always been on my cool people list (I have a lot of lists)and now she can stay there.

Did I ever tell you about the time in college when my rommies and I invented the "Every Woman Club?" (Y'know, like "I'm every woman, it's all in me!")We did and on the wave of her receiving an Academy Award in screenwriting for Sense and Sensibility, I wrote a letter to Emma Thompson (C/o her management firm) asking her to be the Patron Saint of our club. I'm sure if she new me, she would have understood the tone of the letter and would have realized that I wasn't just some psycho fan asking for a handout. Yes, were she to really know me, we would be best friends and the response from her manager would have been different. I'm sure of it!

Preschool Part One

2008-09-24T21:38:00.005-06:00

This week I had the profound pleasure of teaching preschool to The Princess and four neighborhood friends. I will have this privilege every five weeks.
Our theme for the week was COLOR.
We sang Rainbows.
"Red and yellow and pink and green. Purple and orange and blue. I can sing a rainbow, sing a rainbow, sing a rainbow too. Listen with your eyes. Listen with your eyes. And sing every thing you see. You can sing a rainbow, sing a rainbow, sing along with me."
We planted Rainbows.

We made Rainbows.

These are such sweet little ones. So curious and full of energy. I even think some of their energy rubbed off on me and I got through the day in better spirits than my amount of sleep would have normally allowed. A friend once said, "Three year olds are so delicious that they should be dipped in chocolate and sold in department stores during Easter."
A.MEN.

Family Cookies

2008-09-17T11:46:00.006-06:00

From an FHE lesson:
Families are like a cookie recipe. Each ingredient is, at most, ok on it's own, but put them all together and you have something scrumptious!
We made these cookies together the other night. They are DE-LISH! And they are henceforward to be known as "Family Cookies."

Here's the recipe, but be sure that each member of the family adds an ingredient and gets a chance to stir.

1 cup brown sugar, packed
1 cup white sugar
1 cup butter, softened
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 eggs
2 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 cups quick oatmeal
1 cup milk chocolate chips

Mix together the first five ingredients until creamy. Add remaining ingredients. Spoon onto cookie sheets and bake at 400 degrees for 7-8 minutes. (Made 3 dozen for us.)

Oh, and this was our first big tomato from our garden. (And it's already September! Am I going to get anymore before the first frost?)

Saturday Night at My House

2008-09-15T15:08:00.003-06:00

Saturday is a special day.

About a minute after I took this photo. Mr. Boy pooed in the tub. And not a nice neat self contained nugget either.

If The Princess has to get her hair combed, then so does Daddy.

PUBLIC ENEMY #1

2008-09-10T08:58:00.001-06:00

Destroy on sight!

Here's Something I Can Do

2008-09-07T21:56:00.003-06:00

Something I've decided to do to keep up with my family, is read all their blogs. I just spent about an hour virtually catching up with sisters and cousins. It was awesome! My family are (is?) so fun. And attractive, if I do say so myself. I'm changing some of my sidebar to include family members' blogs that haven't previously appeared. (This will also save me from returning to my baby sister's blog to find links to all of them. It seems she's way ahead of me in the whole keeping up witht the family idea.)

So, if you're reading this and you're related to me and you have a blog and it's not on the side bar, please leave a comment, and I'll add you, Cuz!

Oh, here's something bad that happened today (or last night). I'm growing watermelons and Charantais melons (a very classy French variety, because I am a snob and cannot just grow cantaloupe like everyone else) in my front side yard next to my fence. Nothing else is growing there and it's very sunny, so why not? I'll tell you why not: Little vandals will come and steal the only three watermelons that were likely to ripen before the frost BEFORE they were even ripe!Here's the biggest watermelon that was melon-napped.

I was really having a hard time with this. My garden has become my fourth child. I take all of its successes and failures to heart. Really. To heart.
But then I counted three more Charantais melons than I had noticed before and decided that was a Tender Mercy and my reward for going to the adult session of Stake Conference. Here are the Charantais:
So all's well that ends well!
(Except, I really wanted to try those little watermelons! Grrrrrr......)

Another Fresh Start?

2008-09-03T23:00:00.004-06:00

Hello out there in Blog Readershipdom,

I really don't know how many of you out there there are, but one of my faithful readers has been my cousin. She posted a comment on the post entitled "Yeah, Yeah, Yeah." The next day she was in a car accident and is now paralyzed from the chest down. After reading her comment I thought I'd buzz a note back to her, but decided to wait until later. (Gosh, this is sounding like a super sappy email. Sorry.) That she was faithful (for lack of a better word at the moment) to me and I was not to her has been a source of considerable guilt and one of the reasons I've not posted in a bit. A few weeks ago, as I mentioned in the previous post, the sister of some friends of mine were in a terrible airplane accident. I have witnessed, through the blogging world, their family rally around each other. Their devotion to one another is very evident. Without saying that my family doesn't share this same devotion, because I think we do, I will say that I want that for my family. I'm making a conscious decision to strive for that. Frankly, I'm finding that it's kind of a lot of work. But I want to be up on what my sisters and cousins and in-laws are doing and cheer them on. I want them to know that I am a fan. I want my children and The Rose to really know that I love them and create solidarity among us. I want to be faithful to my family.
I'm not really sure what this all means or how I'll put it into practice, but I just thought I'd put it out there.

Wanting to help out

2008-08-28T12:19:00.002-06:00

Hello folks,

I have alot to talk about and explain, but for now, just let me direct your attention to the new sidebar "Donate to NieNie." A sister and brother-in-law of friends were in a plane crash and will be in the hospital for months. They have have four children who are staying with my friends right now and they will have mounting medical bills. For more information, visit www.nierecovery.com.

More to come!

Yeah, yeah, yeah

2008-07-02T16:07:00.004-06:00

Today I had lunch with the Canadian Rose's Canadian cousin and wife and sister-in-law (and the Rose, of course). I don't get out much (three kids)so I put on make up and my new farmer's market jewelry and I even quickly painted my toenails (they look so naked in sandals without). The Rose caught sight of me while I was shepherding The Princess in to put a barrett in her hair.
I think I saw a double take.

The Rose: You look nice.
Me: *blush*smile* Thank you.

He loves me.

P.S. I Hate You

2008-06-29T12:02:00.003-06:00

So, I don't get out much (three kids) and my Blockbuster Online account is my sole access to the real world. I rarely see movies in first run theatres which is a big change from a few years ago when we would go see at least one a week, but with the addition of two more children, no can do.
Last night Father and Oldest Son went to an Owlz game. It was important bonding time that I heartily encouraged. They couldn't possibly have known that (ohh, time for a tangent. Most of you know all our names, but I'm trying out monikers to protect my family from...well, "kooks that konk" (grandma's phrase) on the internet, I guess. So we will be known as The Canadian Rose, Cotton, Mr. Man, The Princess, and Mr. Boy.)
Back to the story. They couldn't have known Mr. Boy would go Exorcist at the dinner table. Well, he's 13 months old and I can't possibly keep track of everything that goes into his mouth. I'm guessing that's what did it, whatever it was. Boy did it do a doozy on him. I got him bathed and put down and then The Princess. Then it was time for me to sit down with a much deserved chick flick and attend to some wrinkly laundry. The movie of choice was P.S. I Love You. I didn't know anything about this movie (except that Gerard Butler was in it and my mother-in-law read the book and liked it)and there was no trailer on the DVD. So I didn't know that 10 minutes into the film, just after you are totally in love with Monsieur Butler because of this sexy (and by sexy, I mean funny sexy, which is WAY sexier than just plain sexy)dance that he does in shamrock boxers, suspenders, and socks--10 minutes into the film, you are at his funeral!?! Well, thank you very much. There may be a certain lunar tug on my hormones presently, that may have exacerbated the situation, but I had a headache at the end of the film from crying ALL THE WAY THROUGH IT! Stupid movie.
Also, I was interrupted part way through by Mr. Boy puking and the other end also. So, I'm bawling already and there's my baby with grey skin, purple lips, and black circles for eye sockets. And stiiiink-EE! He got his second bath, sheets were changed, The Canadian Rose was called. (I love the part of mothering where I get to actually comfort and nurture. I just don't like that the babies have to be sick or hurt for that. Also, someone else could be on clean up duty.)
But, I couldn't leave the movie where it was. I had to see it through! I'd invested too much emotion not to get my happy ending! I brought Mr. Boy, a towel, and the puke bucket back down to finish the movie. He watched a lot of it lethargically with his head on my lap and puked (mostly dry heaved) a couple more times, and I continued to sob. Stupid movie.
The Canadian Rose and Mr. Man made it home around midnight (13 innings)and The Rose says Mr. Boy "looks like the dead kid in Pet Semetary." Yeah, I know.
Well, I finished the movie, Mr. Boy puked one last time, then drank a cup of water, and returned to the land of the living before dozing off to a solid night's sleep.
And I dreamed of kissing an amalgam of The Canadian Rose and Gerard Butler.
All's well that ends well, no?

Your Civic Duty

2008-06-25T22:58:00.006-06:00

This week we had the opportunity to vote. I cannot express strongly enough how important this step is for each and everyone of us in our daily lives. The privilege, the duty, nay, even the honor of this sacred act is a blessing we should not take lightly. In this small way every person, no matter his station can help shape the future. We vote to keep those who exemplify our ideals. Our vote rids us of those who are no longer keeping up.

So I just want to know...who did you vote for?

1. Twitch and Kheringon
2. Gev and Courtney
3. Christ and Comfort
4. Will and Jessica
5. Matt and Kourtni
6. Thayne and Chelsea
7. Mark and Chelsie
8. Joshua and Katee

If you don't know what I'm talking about, click here.

Goin' Steady

2008-06-10T23:02:00.006-06:00

It's kind of like getting baptized or getting married. It's a public admission to a commitment. It makes it more significant. I'm committed to making changes for the better, even if those who know me may call me a hypocrite for all the ways I'm being unfaithful. All I have to say is, it's a process. But just so's you know I'm committed, I hereby
PUBLISH THE BANS

I Know What Boys Like

2008-05-09T23:15:00.004-06:00

So, Moira had her first dance concert tonight (twice and three times tomorrow). I really enjoyed making her up like Jon Benet way too much. Well, no one in her class froze. They all wiggled and kicked and all that jazz. Go Mo!
But sitting in the green room looking at all the different classes in their costumes, I had this sick feeling that I was in a virtual reality room of all possible male fantasies.
School girl uniforms
Cheerleaders
Swiss Misses
French maids
Flashdance off-the-shoulder number
Mechanics in Daisy Dukes (female, of course)
Prom Queens
Cow Girls
Janes (as in Tarzan and...)
Gangsta Chicks
and, my own favorite...

Little Girls

Did I miss any?

What does this observation say about me?

Fantasy Mogul

2008-04-16T17:00:00.001-06:00

Check out my Fantasy Moguls movie slate!

Deception (formerly The List)

Stuck

When Did You Last See Your Father

Get in the game at fantasymoguls.com!

Want It, Need It, Gotta Have It!

2008-04-10T21:54:00.004-06:00

Buy the T-shirt!

2008-03-31T15:19:00.001-06:00

My friend has created some cool T-shirts. Here they are.

make custom gifts at Zazzle

Your Life in Six Words

2008-02-21T23:02:00.003-07:00

Ok, so in an attempt to shake off the late winter blues that so obviously had me in their clutches when I posted last, I am posting something of a game. And it needs audience participation, which could really backfire since my "readership" has dwindled due to my unreliable posting habits. So this post may remain until I've had my fill of fun.
My Darling Lise sent me the link attached to the title of this post about a book written by and about lots of average joes like you and me.
Basically, it's like this. Someone asked Hemingway to write a story in six words. He wrote: For Sale: Baby shoes; never worn. This book contains autobiographies in six words--no more, no less.
This is your challenge! Spread the word! I'm excited to read the results.
Here are a few I came up with.

Gonna have it all, in time.

Big dreams. Had kids. Altered dreams.

I never wanted two in diapers.

Happily ever after, but still plotting.

After coming up with these, I've realized this exercize is very revealing. And not necessarily in a flattering way. Nevertheless, they are what I came up with right now. Perhaps I'll write more as this post moulders.

Really Really Super Duper Post

2008-02-07T00:29:00.000-07:00

OK, so it's really time for a really truly super duper awesome post. (That's the way Moira talks. Yes, she's two going on 13.) Why? Because I'm feeling sorry for myself. It's 12:30am and I'm not asleep. I just finished watching a movie while folding laundry and Anthony is not home yet. This all plays into the feeling sorry for myself bit, if you'll bear with.
1. I should be sleeping because Marek will wake me up in approximately 3 1/2 hours to eat, even though he is nearly 9 months old and really doesn't need to eat. He's just gotten into the habit since he was sick with puke and diarrhea all last week. I also hafta get up at 7am with Mason to make sure he eats his vitamin, writes a sentence of alliteration, and wears shoes when he goes out the door.
2. I can only watch a movie if I am also folding laundry, ironing, crocheting or knitting, or because it is designated family movie night (Fridays). Self imposed restriction.
3. I was going to check my email really quick before going to bed and then I started reading...oh, hang on, Marek is crying...Ok, I'm back. I would have killed myself long ago if not for binkies, bless them. So, I started reading some blogs and I thought, "I really need to go to bed." (See #1)
4. Anthony has had really steady work lately. It's great! It's just reduced our relationship to a couple of texts a day.
So I'm doing something that I want to do but always run out of time for so I never do.
What is it I wanted to say?....

Austen Heroine

2008-02-04T09:56:00.001-07:00

Take the Quiz here!

Agree? Disagree? Who are you?

Cardinal Sin #3: Sloth

2007-09-09T14:22:00.000-06:00

Vanity Fair

2007-07-23T15:56:00.000-06:00

My "Covetous" post has inspired me to begin my soul baring by writing a series of posts on how I am guilty of the seven deadly sins. The last post was ENVY; this one will be PRIDE.

I discovered in the last week and a half that I am easily flattered. You could get me to do anything by merely convincing me that I'd be good at it. In this case, the "anything" was auditioning for a musical which is something I haven't done (with good reason) for about thirteen years! Here's how the story goes.

A few weeks ago I found myself chatting with my friend Ben. He asked if I thought I was up for doing a show, so soon after a baby. I said, "Maaaaaybe. Why?" He said that he and his wife, Skye, had just seen Thoroughly Modern Millie at the Hale WVC and each independently had thought that I'd do a smashing job at Mrs. Meers and that the Hale Orem was going to be holding auditions for it soon. I said, "Yeah, but I don't sing or dance." And he said that the role has songs you can "speak/sing" and that the dancing was minimal.
I pondered on the proposition for more than a week. And as I pondered, I found myself thinking less and less of my well known limitations and more and more about how they thought I'd do such a great job. So, I finally decided to do it. I knew I needed help though, so I asked Ben and Skye if they'd help me prepare a song. They came up with a few options and Skye came over Monday night. I also called the the Hale Orem and made an appointment for the audition which would be two days later. Skye and I settled on 16 bars of "Little Girls" from Annie. Well, I practiced and practiced those 16 bars for the next 48 hours until I felt O.K. about it. I knew I couldn't sell it on my pipes alone, so I tried to imbue the audition with character.

Right. So, I go to the audition and as I'm filling out their form, I'm realizing that I'm about to sing. by myself. in front of people. who will be judging me. But I had come this far and this audition had now become a real fear facing moment. (My sister has recently bared her soul about fear here.) So I was going to go through with it. And I did it and I think I did it about as well as I could have. I even got a little laugh--character, y'know. Then the director/choreographer has me belt a wee bit from the show. Even that didn't go too bad and I left that audition feeling O.K. But I still had the dance audition to tackle on Friday--where tap shoes were "recommended." Yikes!
Here are some things that I had going for me leading up to the dance audition:
1. My big toenail ripped halfway down my toe causing me pain when wearing shoes akin to, well, wearing shoes with a big toenail ripped halfway down my toe.
2. Dusty character shoes that no longer fit- I'm guessing it was pregnancy induced foot enlargement.
3. Sleep deprivation. I went to sleep at 12:30am, was awakened by baby M at 3:00am at which time My Canadian Rose arrived home from work. After chatting a few minutes I could no longer sleep--at all. Ergo: 2 1/2 hours of sleep.
4. Dance Experience in the last decade: Dance Dance Revolution.
5. Tap Classes taken...ever--Zero.

How bad could it be, though, right? I actually had learned the difference between a shuffle and a flap when I assistant directed Anything Goes.

As I walked into the auditorium, a group was on stage dancing a sequence to a song from the show. With bug eyes and flaring nostrils I thought, "Holy Schneikies! I'm in way over my head." An hour later it was all over. And, sistuh, child birth ain't got nothin' on a dance audition for humiliation. Not that the director, etc. were unkind. I was just that bad. I eventually got most of the portions of dance separately-when I could keep my balance and wasn't falling over my own feet. But for the life of me I could not string the sequences together. And the very last step we were to do, well, just fuhget about it. How many non-dancer, 33-year-old, two month post partum women do you know that can stand on one foot, grab the heel of the other foot, and slooooowly pull it up over her head. ("Or, just as high as you can, guys. OK?")

And because fate would kick me while I was down, parched as I was, I put 60 cents into the vending machine for a bottle of water (Of course I left mine in the fridge at home!) and it kept my money and withheld the water. Thanks. Just thanks.

But, you know, I'm still thinking I'd do it again. All you have to do is tell me how good I'd be at it!

My Riches

2007-07-12T16:03:00.000-06:00

As CJane reminded me, I have three reasons not to covet anybody's anything.

1.

2.

3.

End of Sermon.

Champagne Wishes and Caviar Dreams

2007-07-08T23:14:00.000-06:00

You may have noticed, or maybe not because I'm not that important to you, but I've been rather absent from the blogging world. I've not even really been reading the blogs I love. I'm not yet sure why, but I think it has something to do with a particular deadly sin of which I am most guilty. I covet.
I'm quite excellent at coveting. It's a large black spot in my otherwise suprememly pious soul. I started young when one of my favorite shows was Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. I convinced myself at an early age so concretely, that I would one day be on that show, that I believe I have made myself quite miserable. There seems to be something of a disparity between what I think I should have and reality.
I would spend many useful hours uselessly dreaming of the homes I would have in Cannes, London, and New York (still three places I have yet to visit). I also had very expensive taste in cars. Jaguars and Bentleys were always on the list of cars I would one day own. I would also only fly on the Concord or a private jet in my dreams. I would one day be in my Park Avenue apartment about to be chauffeured to an interview with David Letterman, or maybe on Good Morning, America when I'd get a hankering for some Mediterranean sun. So, I'd hop in my jet without even packing because that would be a good excuse to go shopping. But I was also philanthropic with my vast fortune. I would give money to schools I liked for scholarships and any time anyone was on the news with some misfortune where they'd set up an account at a local bank for the community to help out, I'd anonymously donate some outrageous amount.I'm saying this as if it were all in the past. But I gotta be honest. I'm still daydreaming.
My tastes have changed somewhat, but they still run to the out-of-reach.
So, what does this have to do with not blogging? Well, my coveting does not stop at the rather vague and distant world of the rich and famous. I covet many of the ways of those who are close by and not so rich nor famous. Here are some persons who I love whose blogs I love to read --and why or what I covet:
Fashion Sense
Acting Chops
Handling Mormon Domesticity with Wry-ness...oh, and a nice new house
Cleverness in Writing, Acting, Directing
Coolness
Overall Lifestyle Style

And I'm trying to overcome this covetousness and be ok with, well, me. You see, way back in the third grade, I moved to a new school and suddenly was a nyerd which was baffling to me. So I, naturally, asked a nice popular girl, "Will you make me popular?" (I must have said that in an unconscious effort to solidify my nyerd status.) I think ever since then, my life has been painfully focussed on fitting in with the cool crowd. Although what I deem makes someone "cool" has changed, I find myself reeking with desperation in my attempts to justify and further my associations. I really want to be done with that. So, I'm back to blogging and this time around my posts are going to be me laid bare. No artifices. No pleas for acceptance.

Anyone still reading?

I hope so...

The Golden Age

2007-07-06T16:48:00.000-06:00

Is there anything more magnificent than Cate Blanchett in the throes of righteous indignation?

I too have a hurricane in me!

P.S. There's a better trailer on imdb.

What I've been up to lately

2007-07-04T17:11:00.001-06:00

But I'm beginning to feel out of the loop of adult type humans, so I plan to blog more in the future. I'm also going to dedicate some time to the writing exercize blog Scribbler's Nest.

Three kids, two blogs, and one calling as cubmaster.

Stay tuned...

I Have The Cutest Kids In The World

2006-10-08T15:53:00.000-06:00

And here's my proof:

And You Are...???

2006-09-05T11:59:00.000-06:00

Hello *sheepish grin*

Well, since it's almost time for conference again, I thought I'd give a little shout out to all you fine folks who are no longer reading my blog for lack of new material.

You may have noticed the change in the template. I thought a fresh start was in order. And I'm going to have to relearn everything I ever new about html code. (Luckily, that's not much.)

So, Hi! How've you been? Really... Did you hear Steve Irwin died. I think it's very sad and yet, he died in at the hand (stinger?) of a re-oh biutay who was just saying, "Dayn juh." (I can't really speak with an Australian accent, so why did I think I could write in one?)

Speaking of celebrities, I met one, you know. Yup, and I was really excited about it too. I'd like to say that I conducted myself with aplomb and that my wit and charm made quite an impression on him. I'd like to say that.

Here's kinda how it went (it was a couple of weeks ago, so there may be some literary license):

EXT. Base Camp for the film "Forever Strong"-DAY

OUR HERO (that's me, not the Celebrity) anxiously stands by with a toddler on her hip (complete with squished animal crackers in hand and crumbs covering mouth) and a diaper bag over her shoulder, waiting for the second second AD to set up an introduction. The 2nd 2nd rushes by toward the Celebrity's trailer. Moments later he returns, Celebrity in tow, clearly making a bee-line to set. She catches the 2nd 2nd's eye. His look says, "Not now." (No, duh, I know my way around a film set, you know) But the Celebrity notices the exchange and veers away from the bee-line with hand outstretched.

CELEBRITY
What's your name?

OUR HERO
(stammering)
Hillary Straga

CELEBRITY
(indicating toddler)
And who's this?

OUR HERO
(recovering somewhat)
This is Moira.

CELEBRITY
Nice name.

Our Hero notices the 2nd 2nd doing the "Anxious AD Dance."

OUR HERO
But you've got to get to set.

EXT. Base Camp of Forever Strong-LATER

The Celebrity is released from set and walks back to base camp. He sees Our Hero and raises his index finger.

CELEBRITY
Just give me one minute.

He goes to his trailer and returns moments later.

CELEBRITY
Hi.

OUR HERO
(blurting)
I read your book.

CELBRITY
You did? Thanks for taking the time.

OUR HERO
I was wondering if you could...

A tall, lanky crew member approaches and interrupts.

TALL LANKY INTERRUPTING CREW MEMBER
I have a DVD. Could I get you to sign it?

CELEBRITY
Sure.

TALL LANKY INTERRUPTING CREW MEMBER
I'll go get it.

He lumbers off to retreive his precious DVD, oblivious to daggers being thrown at his back from Our Hero's eyes. The Celebrity turns his attention to Our Hero who is awkwardly holding out The Book.

CELEBRITY
Step into my office here on the steps
of the men's honeywagon.

Chuckle.

Our Hero hands the Celebrity The Book and a carefully chosen pen. The Celebrity sits on the steps of the men's honeywagon and opens the book to the title page.

CELEBRITY
What was your name again?

OUR HERO
Hillary. H-I-L-L-Q-D-E-F-T-G-K

She watches the celebrity begin the inscription only half hearing what's coming out of her mouth. The Celebrity stops after "Hilla."

CELEBRITY
Did you say two r's?

OUR HERO
No, just one r, but two l's.

CELEBRITY
I think you said two r's.

OUR HERO
I wouldn't put it past me. I'm a little
nervous.

She wipes her sweaty palms on her jeans and pushes up her glasses, squinting.

CELEBRITY
It's funny to me when people are nervous
about meeting me. Then they talk to
me and realize I'm just a normal guy.
No big deal.

Now is the time for Our Hero to ask the few prepared and rehearsed questions she'd been working on for days in anticipation of meeting the Celebrity.

OUR HERO
I was wondering about the whole SAG
issue with the films. I mean, how did
they get away with it? Was it because
they were out of the country?

Succinctly put. Well done, Hero.

CELEBRITY
Well, New Line didn't pay the
actors. They sent the money to
Wingnut and Wingnut is not a
signatory. Y'know I could have
made a lot more money if it had
been SAG. You get $1000 for every
forced call, and we never got
a full turn around...And SAG could
have gone after the actors, but
they didn't. In my opinion, it's
because they looked at the films
as a great representation of what
SAG actors can do...

Our Hero listens carefully. Almost carefully. She's got to formulate the next question, after all. But, suddenly, asking to see the tatoo seems gauche.

CELEBRITY
...So winning the SAG ensemble
award was pretty ironic, but it's
something I'm very proud of.

OUR HERO
So, they just didn't want to
be the bad guys.

CELEBRITY
Yeah...

OUR HERO
Ummm...My husband and I both
work in film and I was wondering
how you guys work it.

Suddenly that question seems really dumb. After all, Our Hero and her husband have been "working it" quite well for several years now, thank you very much.

CELEBRITY
Well, y'know, we were just
vacationing in Hawaii and I came here
Thursday and they joined me yesterday.
Then they'll go home on Monday and
me on Tuesday. My wife is here, did you meet
her?

OUR HERO
No, but I'd like to.

And so it went how I met The Celebrity. I did meet his wife briefly, and two of his daughters, but then they called lunch and I didn't want to be the reason The Celebrity went into meal penalty. That was TALL, LANKY CREW MEMBER's job.

Oh, right! So here's the book and the inscription.

Getting Ready For Conference

2006-03-29T22:39:00.000-07:00

It's 10:30pm on Wednesday night and I am at work making copies on the color printer. This is very time consuming. But as the machine is doing most of the work, I have a moment to catch up on the blogging world.

Mother of the Year and Why That Prize Will Elude Me Again This Year

1. I am at work at 10:30pm on a Wednesday.

2. My baby spends 6 hours a day (more on audition days) with someone other than me.

3. My baby ate pizza tonight.

4. My 6 year old tells bold face lies and rejoices when Daddy doesn't get home in time for scriptures.

5. My 6 year old hasn't practiced piano in days.

6. My baby goes unmonitored for minutes at a time.

However, I do take my baby with me to work for half the day. She does squeal when I pick her up with nearly the excitement she shows when she sees a kitty-kitty. And my boy does read at a third grade level in first grade. He's also loving and articulate. And, hey, if pizza is good enough for the rest of the family...

I got my TR renewed last Sunday. Pres. Sosa interviewed me. It's the first time I've been interviewed by this stake presidency. (Tangent: And may I say I'm pleased as punch to be living in such a diverse white bread community? Pres. Sosa is hispanic and the other counsellor is Maori. Take that Manhattan! You don't have a corner on the culturally diverse market! Recently I helped cast some vignettes for the General Young Women Broadcast. We found people from Japan, Korea, Denmark, Tonga, and Brazil. I've also been able to find French speaking Africans along the Wasatch front. Our recent Old Testament auditions have brought out several Middle Easterners. Further, at least 30% of my neighborhood originated from south of the border. I'm just saying there might be a perception that because I live in Happy Valley, my family is not exposed to multiculturalism and I just don't think that's the case.)
So, Pres. Sosa asked me what my calling was and how it was going. I expressed that I sometimes feel overwhelmed (who doesn't?) and he said that we (meaning the women in the Church) do more than we realize. He said some other things that confirmed to me that he was speaking with inspiration and I'm glad he was living so that I could benefit from that. But that comment on doing more than I realize made me think back to Sis. Parkin's talk in General RS Meeting last September, which we reviewed two weeks ago for Enrichment "RS Birthday" Night, and I think it bears repeating because it made me feel good. And I need to be reminded often of stuff that's true and eternal because sometimes I forget to feel good.

Bonnie D. Parkin said, "Yet as women we are pretty hard on ourselves! Believe me when I say each of us is much better than we think. We need to recognize and celebrate what we're doing right. Much of what we do seems small and insignificant—just a part of daily living. When we are called "to give an account to Jehovah,"4 as the Prophet Joseph counseled, I know that we will have much to share." (emphasis added)

Pres. Sosa also said (I'm paraphrasing) that if I make time to go to the temple, the Lord will make time for everything else. So, I went today and received some personal insights.

I guess the point of this posting is that I'm grateful for personal revelation and inspiration given to those with stewardships. So I'm looking forward to Saturday and Sunday to get my healthy dose of both.

Or, maybe I'm just rambling incoherently because it's now 11:30pm and I'm at work making copies.

It's A Wonderful Night For An Oscar!

2006-03-06T08:59:00.000-07:00

About half way through the Oscars last night, I thought of the idea to do a play by play for the blog. But then I was too lazy to get my computer out for the second half. You'll just have to be happy with a recap.

Fun opening sequence. I appreciated Jon Stewart's dry sense of humor. Overall, I think he did a fine job, but I hafta say I'm partial to Billy Crystal. There's something about the Oscars when he does it.

I'll never see Westerns the same again after the first of the odd, unmotivated montages.

One word for George Clooney: suave. I think he's the new Cary Grant--he practically channeled him in Intollerable Cruelty. And about being out of touch. Yeah, yeah. Pushing the envelope on certain issues is good. But maybe not others. And who's to decide which ones? Me, of course.

****
OK I'm actually picking this up two days after the Oscars and after reading the Jolly Porter's take on it all. I know I can't measure up to his wit, but I'm gonna have my say nonetheless!

Here's to motherhood makin' women out of waifs!
Rachel Weisz (maybe not really so waifish, but gorgeous, glowing, and all around puh-fect! What an Oscar winner should be!)
Michelle Williams--bright canary, but ultimately, thumbs up.
Jennifer Garner--Did anyone see 13 Going on 30? Didn't think so. But she has this line where a girl tells her she's wearing a great dress and she says, "Cuz I've got these great boobs to fill it out!" Well, last night was the only time that statement was true. But maybe I'm bitter because now that I've all but weaned Moira, my sweet sistah's have shrivelled to their prepregnancy prepubescent state.

Dolly: What a little fire cracker! But I think I coulda bounced a quarter off her face.

Meryl and Lilly: amazing. That's why they get paid the big bucks. When I grow up, I want to be them.

The campaigns: Loads of fun. I loved "Keira: Acting while beautiful." and the old couple plugging Reese.

It's Hard Out Here Foe A Pimp: I'll say this for them: It's the only song I can still remember. And, yeah, let's get excited about winning an award. I know I would---Just gimme a chance!!!

Best Actor: Phillip was really mesmerizing and subtle (yes, subtle. I'll explain to anyone who wants to hear.) But couldn't we have done something about the caterpillars over his eyes?

Best Actress: I first saw Reese in a movie called "A Far Off Place." She was about 14 and I said to myself, "That girl has got it." She was charming in Walk The Line. Her hair was pretty, elegant, and feminine.

Best and Worst Dressed: Salma Hayak's dress was my favorite. Wow. Can I look like that, please??!! Naomi Watts was the worst. I think she'd been running through the jungle with Kong before coming on stage. A close second was the dead crow perched on Charlize's shoulder.

Oh, director and picture?? Thought I forgot, didn't you? Thought I was going to avoid the touchy subject of the Elephant in the room?

Did anyone notice that the Asian directed the gay American movie and the gay American directed the Asian movie? (OK, so I don't know Rob Marshall's orientation, but, c'mon! He directs musicals!)

Some have said that Crash is as pretentious and overrated as Titanic. I don't think anything could be as overrated as Titanic. Just didn't get that one. And while I liked Brokeback Mountain, it did not blow me away. I find that I could quit it quite easily. And Crash did affect me. It caused me to examine myself because it did hit me over the head.

And on to the Governor's Ball. What is up with E!'s reporters??!! I don't know which was more embarrassing. Julianne (is that her name?) revealing her girl crush on JLo. "You should see her when there's only a bush separating you." Did she really say that? OR That horrid E! Bailey's Bar Lounge thingy with a bunch of nobodies. Who wants to see nobodies on Oscar night?
One other fun moment was at the Vanity Fair party when Venus and Serena and their ARMS were interviewed. I don't know which is which, but one said her favorite winner was Phillip Semen Hoffmore.

That's a wrap. Good night, and Good Luck!

Johari Window

2006-02-27T14:42:00.000-07:00

I really needed to post again and I should have more time soon as Much Ado is now over. *sniffle,sniffle* This is a little experiment that big corporations do to figure out employees' personalities, etc. So, some friends have responded to mine and here are the results. If you'd like this opportunity to let me know how you really feel about me, go to http://kevan.org/johari?view=Hillary%20S.

Arena

(known to self and others)

dependable, intelligent, religious

Blind Spot

(known only to others)

able, accepting, bold, brave, calm, clever, confident, extroverted, giving, happy, idealistic, ingenious, kind, knowledgeable, loving, observant, organised, patient, relaxed, responsive, searching, self-assertive, sentimental, silly, sympathetic, trustworthy, warm, witty

Façade

(known only to self)

cheerful, friendly, reflective

Unknown

(known to nobody)

adaptable, caring, complex, dignified, energetic, helpful, independent, introverted, logical, mature, modest, nervous, powerful, proud, quiet, self-conscious, sensible, shy, spontaneous, tense, wise

All Percentages

able (33%) accepting (33%) adaptable (0%) bold (11%) brave (11%) calm (11%) caring (0%) cheerful (0%) clever (44%) complex (0%) confident (22%) dependable (22%) dignified (0%) energetic (0%) extroverted (22%) friendly (0%) giving (11%) happy (11%) helpful (0%) idealistic (11%) independent (0%) ingenious (22%) intelligent (33%) introverted (0%) kind (22%) knowledgeable (11%) logical (0%) loving (22%) mature (0%) modest (0%) nervous (0%) observant (22%) organised (11%) patient (11%) powerful (0%) proud (0%) quiet (0%) reflective (0%) relaxed (11%) religious (11%) responsive (22%) searching (11%) self-assertive (11%) self-conscious (0%) sensible (0%) sentimental (11%) shy (0%) silly (22%) spontaneous (0%) sympathetic (11%) tense (0%) trustworthy (33%) warm (11%) wise (0%) witty (22%)

Created by the Interactive Johari Window on 27.2.2006, using data from 9 respondents.
You can make your own Johari Window, or view Hillary S's full data.

Eye-Eye

2006-02-03T11:16:00.000-07:00

Last night Moira slept in her crib, thereby allowing me a restful night's sleep. Which is what makes my awakening all the more rude.
At 6:15am, something scratched my right eye. Yes, while I was sleeping (and having a great dream about Anthony making his first movie--a horror movie, of course) my eyeball was scratched. And the scratching continued for the next hour and a half.
***Warning: The following is boring exposition!***
A few years ago I was diagnosed with Graves Disease which affects the thyroid and the tissue behind the eyes. My thyroid has since been killed off through radioactive iodine treatment, but my eyes have not been treated as there really is no treatment. The tissue behind the eyes swells causing the eyes to bulge. You may have noticed my resemblance to Marty Feldman who also suffered from thyroid related orbitopathy. Well, anyway, one of my eyes seems to be receding while the other continues to "bug," which is great for comedy, incidentally. But every now and then my eyes cause me problems such as I had this morning.
***
This morning I felt as if there were a tiny jagged rock glued to the inside of my eyelid. I tried to flush it out. And heaven knows I was producing enough tears to wash away a zen garden. I could not close my eyes without pain. I could not open my eyes fully without pain. And so I sat on my bathroom floor in a Napolean Dynamite gaze. I came to realize that were I ever a prisoner of war and tortured, I would presently go mad. For it is true that for an hour and a half this morning I was a prime candidate for Bellevue. (Anthony even said--once I was sane again--that I was not acting human) Yes, dear friends, this morning I had to continually remind myself what rational behavior was. In my mind the only things I wanted to do were throw things, hit my head against a wall, and break dishes. I was Maher-shalal-hashbaz.
At about 7:45am, the pain subsided. No rock was dislodged from my eye; not even an eyelash. The pain just stopped. What in the name of all that is holy was that all about???!!!

It's The Day Of The Show, Y'all! It's The Day Of The Show!

2006-01-23T14:57:00.000-07:00

Well, it's a few days after the day of the show. But here's a shameless plug anyway.
Opening night was sold out and we had a great time! Audiences (all two of them so far) have been really responsive. So, yay!
This is a picture of Dona Joan (me) ruining Hero's (Alexis Wardle) wedding. (insert maniacal laughter--which, incidentally, I cannot manage to produce)
This is a really great cast and expertly directed. We have fun performing it and you will have fun watching it!
The show runs through February 25 on Mondays, Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays at 7:30pm and gets over usually about 9:45pm. It's at 105 East 100 North in Provo.
Click on this posting's title and buy tickets now! You will regret not seeing it!
Was that shameless enough?
Here's something more shameful. Anyone who sees the show can write a mini review in the comments. Only if it's complimentary, of course! I will delete anything detrimental to the success of the show!!! (another maniacal laugh)

Just Because It's Been A While

2006-01-11T09:19:00.000-07:00

Hello, Adoring Public!
(All 27 of you according to my new counter.)
So, yeah, I've been working during the day and having rehearsal at night the last couple of weeks and haven't felt like I had much to say. There's always the New Year's Resolutions, but that might be taking myself too seriously and one of my resolutions this year is to be more light hearted. I think worrying has increased the ugly furrow wrinkle between my brows. It just keeps getting deeper and deeper until, one day, if I'm not careful, I will have a perpetual scowl on my face.
But I'm not going to worry about that!
I'm not going to worry about my children getting colds, either. Cuz, guess what! They go away! And usually just when you think they won't. Last night Moira slept in her crib all night long without a peep! We checked her this morning to make sure she was still alive. She has slept the better part of the last two weeks in our bed, crying out and slamming her legs on the bed every hour or so. But not last night! And, hallelujah! I feel well rested. Sort of. It still wasn't enough to induce me to get out of bed and go running at the Smith Field House. (One of those pesky resolutions I wasn't going to mention.) Tomorrow is another day, right Scarlet?
The other day I went to the mall to have my hair coiffed (and chopped into a bob a la early flapper) and I visited my friend at the Meier and Frank. I decided to ask her for some fashion advice, as I am fashion challenged. I said, "If I were to attend the Sundance Film Festival, what would you put me in?" It's a fantasy I have that people would actually care what I wear to swank event like that. I probably won't actually go this year (performances), but next year, a film I worked on will be all the buzz in Park City! (Ooops! Another resolution snuck out.) And then at least I'll care what I wear because there will be photos taken for Entertainment Weekly, Premier, and People. It's a little bit discouraging to think of though, because there are so many people out there trying to do exactly what I'm trying to do. But I'm not going to worry about that, either! There's room enough for everybody!
Heigh-ho!

Spooky How Well They Know Me

2005-12-25T23:16:00.000-07:00

Your Birthdate: October 29

You have the mind of an artist, even if you haven't developed the talent yet.
Expressive and aware, you enjoy finding new ways to share your feelings.
You often feel like you don't fit in - especially in traditional environments.
You have big dreams. The problem is putting those dreams into action.

Your strength: Your vivid imagination

Your weakness: Fear of failure

Your power color: Coral

Your power symbol: Oval

Your power month: November

What Does Your Birth Date Mean?

Jolly Ole Saint Nickel-less: Or How I Turned Off the Christmas Machine Out of Economic Necessity and Ended Up Being Glad

2005-12-21T17:03:00.000-07:00

What a festive time of year! So festive that no one wants to be in the middle of making a movie during the holidays. Ergo: Mass unemployment for those hapless creative types who are masochistic enough to want to work in film. While some might think it's fun to have loads of time off during the Season, I think they are the Some that have normal jobs with things called "benefits" like paid vacation. But I have made my bed and now I must lie in it (until it gets repossesed). It is a bed I happily lie in when I can say things like, "I'm going to the premiere tomorrow night," and "Our film is getting lots of buzz at Sundance." O.K. I'm still waiting to say that second one. The point is there's Glamour in this biz and the "starving" part is just the baggage that goes along with being able to call oneself an artist. Right?

So the other day I went into Media Play to spend the remaining bits of a gift card to make sure Anthony had something to open on Christmas Day on Christmas Day. I tell you, there were some kids there who should not be getting a visit from the Jolly Elf. Also, it doesn't surprise me one bit that Media Play is going out of business. They call 20% off a total store clearance??? Excuse me, but you're just now getting down to the same price as the rest of the retail world. I think the Scrooge at Media Play corporate headquarters must be green, furry, and have a heart three sizes too small. Or am I mixing metaphors...

That day out at Media Play was really my first and only foray into the wide world of Christmas consumer lust this year. And I realized that it's ugly and annoying and and and maybe I just feel that way because I would really like to get some nice gifts for the special people in my life and I'd also like to have some left over to do the Angel Tree thing. But I can't and it's really not making me terribly sad. Not like I thought it would.

Anthony does have---Christmas miracle---work the day after Christmas, so we decided to save the non existent gas money and stay here in Provo for Christmas. That means our Christmas will be devoid of the family party. And I'm ok with that. It means that I'll sleep in my bed on Christmas Eve. I'm really ok with that. It means that we'll be just the four of us opening a few presents on Christmas Day on Christmas Day. It means that we'll go to Church for only an hour on Christmas Day in the morning. Then we'll spend the rest of the day eating, watching movies, and hopefully playing some games together. (Backgammon---I always win!) It's quiet, it's cozy, it's family. It's Christmas.

What To Get For That Someone Who Has Everything

2005-12-15T11:31:00.000-07:00

Tired of noisy toys and stuff you don't know what to do with when Christmas is over? I think this is a great alternative to stuff stuff and stuff. And it promotes a sense of stewardship and global awareness.

http://www.adoption.co.uk
and
http://www.greatgifts.org

Merry Christmas!!!

Adventures in Character Development Parte the First

2005-12-12T13:06:00.000-07:00

So, I'm in the play Much Ado About Nothing. I'm very excited to be in it. I'm playing a female version of Don John (the Keanu Reeves character). I looked forward to the auditions for many months and when the time came to audition, I prepared a fair amount, I'd say. I was very anxious to be a part of the show. First of all, it's Shakespeare and I'd only ever done scenes of Shakespeare in acting classes. To conclude, it's being done at Provo Theatre Company which is "Utah County's Only Professional Theatre." Sixth, and lastly, the director is really cool and knows his Shakespeare. I felt pretty good about my audition. And I certainly know that all you can do in an audition is your best because you can't control if you're too tall, or if someone thinks you have funny speech patterns, or if someone else is sleeping with some decision maker.
I was thrilled to get the call that I had been cast.

And then I panicked.

When I was accepted to film school, I more or less left acting for about 10 years to pursue behind the scenes stuff. After I had been working as a casting director for a year or so I decided it was time to throw my hat in the ring again. I was not very familiar with local theatres so I just called them all to find out about upcoming auditions. I was soon cast in a production of Servant of Two Masters playing Beatrice. It was a bad production. For example, one of the director's directions to some young cast members was "Show some feeling in this scene." His instruction to us the night before we opened was, "Make sure you have your lines and blocking memorized."
After that, I got an agent for film work and actually got a couple of commercials and a small part in a movie that was mercifully excluded from the final cut. All of that, though, is just snippets of character. A few lines. Thirty seconds of air time. Certainly nothing you have to sustain. Nothing to sink one's teeth into.

Thus the panic. It's really been a long time. What if I can't really do this? What if I actually suck and nobody's told me yet but they're all thinking it?

The third day of rehearsal we were blocking the scenes I'm in and I was a stone. A dull, feelingless stone devoid of any creative spark. I knew I could see behind Chris's eyes regret at having cast me. Was the young actor playing Conrad repulsed at having to play opposite and old hag like me? I thought so. At work the next day I told Alisa of my feelings of being woefully inadequate. She was supportive and assured me that she knew I could and would do great and make it funny. After all, she reminded me, we've only had three reahearsals.

Armed with reassurances from her and dear Anthony, I worked on my lines during the week and thought about character in preparation for the first act blocking run through on Saturday.
I found a picture of a dress that was used in a film in 1918(the year we're setting the play) that gave me an image. And, although I've got more time to work this out, here's where I'm headed: Equal parts spider, snake and Norma Desmond.

And Saturday's rehearsal went so much better.
I'm just going to ignore what's behind Chris's eyes.

Taking My Child Into the West

2005-11-22T13:45:00.000-07:00

A couple of months ago I had about 3 loads of laundry to fold all at once, so I thought I'd sit down and watch The Fellowship of The Ring whilst I folded. Mason came home near the end of the film and watched it with me. Then he asked if he could watch The Two Towers as well. We actually (because we're really good parents) took him to The Lord of the Rings movies when they were in the theatres, but as he was only 2, 3 and 4 when they came out, I don't think he got much out of them. I was delighted that he would now be interested in watching the films now because I'm such a huge fan. I also did realize that he probably had ulterior motives for watching the films: while we would be watching the movies he wouldn't have to clean his room or practice piano or do homework. It's always good to take advantage of the fact that mom is watching movies in the middle of the day. But we actually only ended up watching them on the weekends and he fell asleep pretty quickly so we didn't finish all of them until Sunday night. I think it took three sittings to finish The Return of the King. (We, of course, have the extended editions.)
So, Sunday night we had an hour and a half left of The Return of the King.
Spoiler Alert!
(Yes, there are one or two people in the world who haven't seen these movies---Mom, Bree...)
This was a grand experience to share with my son. Through the viewings of these films, I wasn't sure if Mason was really gettin' it, but some of his comments assured me that he was indeed gettin' it.

After Sam rescues Frodo from the Orcs in Mordor, they disguise themselves as Orc warriors and try to slip past the armies to Mount Doom.

The sight of the great host of Mordor prompted Mason to ask
Why are there Orcs in this world?
Because there's always bad. Wherever there is good, there is bad. You can't have good without it.
I didn't feel like going into the whole Orcs were once Elves taken by Sauron and twisted and tortured until they turned evil.
Then came Frodo and Sam's climb up Mount Doom and Sam's great speech ending with "I can't carry it for you, Mister Frodo, but I can carry you!"
This part always makes me cry.
Why?
Because they're so tired and they have no strength left, but they have to go on. They can't stop.
It must hurt to walk so much.
Frodo finally makes it to the Cracks of Doom and dangles the ring over the lava.
Drop it! Drop it! C'mon, just let it go! Drop it!
After the mountain explodes and Sam and Frodo are rescued by the Eagles, Frodo is taken to recover in a softly glowing room in Gondor. Gandalf is watching over him when awakens and Frodo knows for the first time since The Fellowship, that Gandalf is alive. Pent up emotions and relief from long suffering spill out as Gandalf laughs from deep in his soul. Then one by one the rest of the Fellowship come into Frodo's room and there is much joy.
Mommy, this part makes me cry.
At Aragorn's coronation, he comes forward to pay tribute to the four Hobbits who bow to him. He responds, "No, my friends. You bow to no one." And he takes a knee in front of them, followed by the rest of Gondor.
Why are they bowing to the hobbits?
Why do you think?
Because they did all the work.
And then, the end.
Sam, Frodo, Pippin, and Merry escort Bilbo to the Grey Havens to take the last Elf ship West. Gandalf says, "It is time, Frodo."
Frodo says his goodbyes to the others and enters the ship.
Why is Frodo going?
Because he's a ring bearer. He saved everyone and it hurt him so bad, he can't stay.
Is he going away forever and ever?
*nod*
And never coming back?
*shake*
I thought I heard small gasps or sniffles in the dark.
When I was tucking him in I asked if he liked it.
When Frodo got on the ship it made me cry.
And he began to cry.
How come?
Because they're best friends and they're never going to see each other again.
I didn't offer any condolence. No words of comfort. I think you sometimes need to let a movie make you cry. I think it's good to be affected. And it was wonderful to share this kind of emotional catharsis with my boy.

Pride in the Work Place: An Endangered Species

2005-11-14T17:02:00.000-07:00

This morning I went to work for a full day sans children. That is a topic for another posting. This posting begins when I was walking in the front door of the MPS on this drizzly Monday morning. One of the facilities personnel was picking up a bundle of the prestigious Daily Universe that had been carelessly tossed on the wet sidewalk. In my current state of mind I was prompted to say, "Whatever happened to caring about your job?" Honestly, couldn't they have found some piece of paper or a plastic bag to wrap the papers in? O.K. so the paper is free. So, it really doesn't contain much solid journalism. So the delivery person was just doing his "campus job" to help him pay for the education that will get him his "real job." It's the principle of the thing I'm tryin' to get at here. We all know the phrase "If it's worth doing, it's worth doing right." I think there's a general lazy attitude in the work place, particularly in minimum wage type jobs. (That is a generalization, because I have actually had some excellent service by someone who seems to really be enjoying his job at the KFC by the Albertson's where CJane finally acquired her pumpkin pie.) You get what you pay for, you may say. But what about the phrase I've also read: "If it's not worth doing right, is it worth doing?" If you're going to do a job, do it right. If you're not going to do it right, get out of the way and let someone else do it. I think Americans have become very spoiled and unappreciative of a job. "Maybe we need another depression to make people take pride in work again." And that is what I said as I began my day at work.

Mourning My Former Self

2005-11-10T14:58:00.000-07:00

Or at least what I perceive as my former self...
Last week I was doing sealings in the temple and there was another couple helping out. They were younger than me. Probably Zoobies. Our sealer had issues with foreign name pronunciation as most Provo Temple sealers do, bless their hearts. Every new name would bring a stiffled giggle from the Zoobies. They were not cruel. They were just enjoying the experience and each others' company. They were light hearted, but not light minded. (At least that's my perception.)
I think I was like that once. I mentioned in a previous posting that I was once a romantic, but now consider myself a realist. What's more is that I think that I am very literal. As I noticed the bright couple, I had to look at myself in the mirror because I thought that I might have a scowl on my face. I suddenly panicked that I used to be carefree and joyful, but that now I'm not. I used to make people laugh. Now I don't even talk to people any more than I have to because I have "too much stuff to do." This is not the way I want to be. But I think I'm having a hard time extricating myself from this "gotta do more, gotta be more" mode in which I've entrenched myself. Plus I've seen and I've read about a lot of crap that goes on in this world. From injustices and pettiness in the Church Office Building to Pres. Mugabe's corruption and tyranny. I think I've allowed them to weigh down my soul.
What about just living? What about being an optimist? What about dreams? What about dreams coming true? But what about racism, pornography, child abuse, poverty, unpunished sexual predators, war, disease?
I'm distressed. And I want to be joyful.
I'm burdened with cares that are not my own. But we're supposed to bear one another's burdens.
I am blessed. But I don't feel like I reflect that.
I have put away my child self and I want her back!

On Holiday

2005-10-28T23:28:00.000-06:00

Once upon a time there was an awkward self conscious 12 year old with brown hair and freckles. On the first day of 8th grade at Ingleside Middle she was assigned alphabetically to a seat in Mrs. Morrill's Social Studies class wherein a class syllabus was distributed. She took one of the stack at the front of the row and turned around to pass the rest back, when she was met with a new face. A lovely face that also had freckles and was framed with brown hair. After lunch she was waiting outside Science class with the new girl and introduced herself. It took several tries for her to catch the new girl's name. Breeze? No, Bree. The awkward girl's last name started with A. Bree's with B, so they were paired up in nearly all their classes for the next two years. Both girls were academically above average and they both enjoyed participating in drama. It was a friendship made in Heaven. The girls were nearly inseparable until shortly into Sophomore year when Bree's cruel parents ripped the two apart by moving back to Colorado. Another year and a half later and the awkward girl (yes, it's me) moved to Utah. We went on to separate universities. I served a mission in Spain while Bree went around the world with Semester at Sea. Then, in 1997 we both married tall blond Anthonys. Then in 1999, we each gave birth to our first child. Bree's Anthony (Tony) is a Lt. in the Navy and in these last 8 years they have lived in Guam, Chicago, and Spain. Currently, they are stationed out of Bremerton Naval Base near Seattle. All these long years of separation has not diminished our friendship. I count it as one of my life's great blessings.
Through their generosity and my frequent flyer miles, Mason, Moira, and I were able to visit them last week as an early birthday present to me.
How wonderful that we can pick up where we left off as if we'd actually lived in the same town for the last 18 years! And as Bree put it, how wonderful that we could give the gift of friendship to our children.
We went to Pike Street Market, the Children's Museum, the Seattle Aquarium, rollerskating, we took the ferry, and just enjoyed hanging out with each other. After such a great birthday present, I guess I'll not even mind turning another year older in a few minutes.

Musings on Death

2005-10-15T22:48:00.000-06:00

Occasionally my son likes to ask the big questions like "what is divorce," "what is an ice age," "if I fell into liquid hot magma and died, would I ever see you again," and "what does it feel like to die." This last one was something that came up just a few days ago. I answered that I didn't suppose that the actual dying felt like anything. But then added, "Course, if you were being eaten by a bear, it would probably be really painful and scary before you actually died." I like to keep it real for my kids. I mean, if I don't play straight with them, who's gonna?
So then I was thinking about my preferred manner of death and I thought about Eowyn of Rohan who said, "I fear neither death nor pain." Then Aragorn asks her, "What do you fear, my lady?" And she answers, "A cage. To stay behind bars until use and old age accept them. And all chance of valor has gone beyond recall or desire."
I don't know if I fear death. I think I fear being without my family. I fear them being without me. (But that's probably vanity.) But I do think I'm not a big fan of pain. Although I did give birth sans medication less than six months ago. So maybe I could handle pain too. To be honest, I used to be a romantic, but old age has made me a realist. I don't need to go out in a blaze of glory. I don't need to prove my valor on the battlefield like the sheild maiden of Rohan. I think I would like to live a full life and have full mental and physical capacity until the end. And then, one night, my spirit could just slip home. Maybe that's the most romantic notion yet!

Neither Shall I Eat at the BK

2005-10-09T17:02:00.000-06:00

Last night I stayed up late to watch Jon Heder host Saturday Night Live. I believe it is the first time a member of our faith has ever hosted the show. And I don't count Steve Martin or Tom Hanks. Toward the end, a commercial for Burger King came on and it was worse for me than if I'd seen a horror movie before going to bed.
What is with this campaign?! Yikes! A man is riveting the steel of a new sky scraper together, only he's really tired so it's slow going. The person on the other side of his column is riveting like gang busters. After a moment, the gang buster peeks around the column revealing himself as the Burger King. My, what a large head he's got, grandmother! And my, what a large smile! They scare me as no clown has ever scared me. If I looked around a column 20 stories above the earth to see that frightening mug, no doubt I'd give in to my vertiginous tendencies and plummet to my demise, likely breaking every bone in my body on the steel skeleton all the way down.
But this is not the only ad of this variety. What about the lumberjack (and I'm ok)? As his most recent newly dead tree topples, the creature from the golden grease vat pops up offering a meat on top of meat on top of meat breakfast sandwich. Honestly, I'd rather here a banjo playing in the distance than be spooked by the King.
And what does the slogan "Wake up with the King" imply anyway?
Both commercials end with this satanic sovereign jokingly endangering the lives of these new recruits. Yeah, I've got my eye on you, Mr. Burger. You can't fool me with your plastic grin. I can see the evil behind those crinkly eyes! You'll lure the trusting hungry into your false kingdom, only to kill them slowly with ultra processed fast food. Well, not ME, by jove!
Hear this Burger King: your campaign isn't working! I'll be staying away from your monster monarch and your artery clogging repast.

How I Spent My Saturday

2005-09-26T22:35:00.000-06:00

My friend Alisa asked for some help on a project she's been doggedly nursing for at least several months. She is developing a feature about one of the stories in the Book of Mormon. On Saturday, we filmed a few pages of the script as it now stands, by way of a promotional fundraising film. As this was being done for almost no money, the crew and cast was small. It is a credit to Alisa's talents as both film director and friend that there were those willing to volunteer a Saturday to help begin the birthing process of this project.
Admittedly, a couple of times in the last month I was less than enthusiastic about "giving up" a Saturday, but as I was driving to the studio a little after seven in the morning, baby in tow, I experienced a growing feeling of excitement and I remembered why I went to film school. I love this stuff! And I love the feeling on a set where the cast and crew are there for the joy of filmmaking.
A was the art director and his only assistant was Mason. It was a family affair. Even Moira content to be in her stroller all day.
I helped with some casting in the weeks prior to the shoot and the day of I documented the day with a video camera and a couple of still cameras. I only right now have access to the photos I took with one of the cameras, and at Alisa's request, I'll only post a couple of them.
However, if you or anyone you know would like to invest in the feature, you'll get to see what was shot on Saturday as well as the pictures and video I shot!

Stories Are Important

2005-09-17T20:55:00.000-06:00

The other night, A and I were discussing novels and film. We talked about why we read and/or watch movies. I said that we learn when we read books and watch movies and that's why we keep reading books and watching movies. He contends that the only reason he reads or watches movies is simple entertainment. He goes to the movies to forget his life and be absorbed in something fun. (A, if you read this and I've misrepresented your thoughts, please feel free to comment and rectify.)The reader will notice that I am currently reading a book by Azar Nafisi. In this book she says, "...what we search for in fiction is not so much reality but the epiphany of truth." This perhaps sounds very high minded, but really, why do we return again and again to story if not because on some deep spiritual level, we need it. Granted, I do not say, "Let's go see Batman Begins. I can't wait to see what I'll learn from it." But I am always grateful when I do leave a film (or finish a book) and feel I have greater insight in to myself or the world in which I live.
Robert McKee, the well known instructor of screenwriting, has much to say on this subject. And I agree with him, so I will quote him. "To retreat behind the notion that the audience simply wants to dump its troubles at the door and escape reality is a cowardly abandonment of the artist's responsibility. Story isn't a flight from reality but a vehicle that carries us on our search for reality, our best effort to make sense out of the anarchy of existence."
I love stories. I love to imagine myself as a hero. I love to get angry at well formed villians. I love that I can laugh and cry and roll my eyes at idiocy. Why, though? Because the stories resonate with my life experience. And often resonate with the life experience that I can no longer remember. Jesus taught in parables so that each person could take meaning from it on the level of understanding he had acheived. Reading a book or watching a movie is never the same twice.
Robert McKee said that humans are constantly trying to understand our exsistence. We have done it through philosophy, science, religion and art. "But today who reads Hegel and Kant without an exam to pass? Science, once the reat explicator, garbles life with complexity and perplexity. Who can listen without cynicism to economists, sociologists, politicians? Religion, for many, has become an empty ritual that masks hypocrisy. As our faith in traditional ideologies diminishes, we turn to the source we still believe in: the art of story...Our appetite for story is a reflection of the profound human need to grasp the patterns of living, not merely as an intellectual exercise, but within a very personal, emotional experience. In the words of playwright Jean Anouilh, 'Fiction gives life its form.'"
So am I not entertained when I go to the movies? Do I approach each work of fiction as a tool to comprehend the complexity and chaos of life? No, of course not. That is why stories are so powerful. They are entertaining. Maybe I do escape my life in the midst of the experience. But they stay with me. I accept and reject their ideologies. I change my perspective after having seen or read some stories. Over time, much of my character is shaped as a result of assimilating stories.
It is too bad some squander this awesome stewardship by creating empty, vapid works. But, on the other hand, perhaps what is empty and vapid to one could be very meaningful to another.

"I'm Mad as Hell, And I'm Not Going to Take It Anymore!"

2005-09-08T22:42:00.000-06:00

By the time I publish this, the news could be too old to make the point. On Friday September 3, 2005, NBC aired a live special to help raise funds for Hurricane Relief. Tim McGraw, Faith Hill, Harry Connick, Jr., and Aaron Neville performed in between celebrities’ pleas to the American public to dig into its ample pockets to help the victims of Hurricane Katrina. Celebrities read from a teleprompter desperate statistics of the American Red Cross’s efforts to rescue and relieve. Most of the celebrities were appropriately and solemnly dressed in black blazer; neat and somewhat nicer than street clothes. Then comes Kayne West with Mike Myers. Mike wore the aforementioned black blazer. Mr. West was wearing a trashy striped rugby jersey. I could tell already that we could expect nothing but disrespec’ from this trouble maker. (I read up on him, and apparently, he’s the one responsible for making popular the annoying and, I think, plagiaristic, practice of trying to make hip hop more legit by ripping off other people’s hit songs and sticking them in the middle of the hip hop stuff that I just don’t get---sorry, folks, maybe it’s cuz I’m Scandinavian by heritage. I can neither get down nor jump.)
Back to the telethon. On cue, Mike Myers read seriously from the prompter. Then it was Kayne’s turn. It was immediately obvious that he was not going to read from the teleprompter. Here are some of the things he said: Whenever we see a black man on television, they’re looting. And all the white people are shown helping people. I’m going to talk to my business manager and see how much I can give. (What, and still keep your Hummer and bling?) Then he said something about the Bush administration not helping black people.
Mike Myers remained admirably composed, although, I think I did see fear in his eyes. Just as I was beginning to think they were never going shut the troglodyte up, it was Mike’s turn again, who dutifully read from the teleprompter, trying to salvage the wreck. Ah, but our esteemed grammy winner was not done yet. He got in one more sentence before they finally switched cameras to a startled, improvising Chris Carter. His last words (and hopefully the last words he’s EVER allowed to say live) were, “George Bush hates black people.”
I’ve been thinking about exactly why this bothered me for a few days now and I’ve come to this conclusion. I hate when people push their own political agendas in inappropriate forums. Mr. West’s behavior was self serving and inflammatory.
One event that stars are notorious for abusing happens early each Spring in LaLa Land: the Academy Awards. Celebrities, understand this: you are receiving an award for outstanding achievement in FILMMAKING, not for raising social awareness.
If you want to say your peace, write a blog!
End of Sermon.

I Like Food

2005-09-01T14:33:00.000-06:00

Up in the lunchroom where I sometimes work, the multimedia folks were talking about whether or not there would be food when we are living on the other side of the veil. One argued that Jesus ate with the disciples after he was resurrected, which would indicate we could eat if we wanted to. I say, it ain't heaven if there ain't no food!
Here are some foods that I would require in my version of heaven:
cheesecake
dark chocolate
cream of wheat (yes, cream of wheat! Lay off, it's comfort food!)
real mashed potatoes
Cafe Rio's Tres Leches
Mountain Land Vanilla yogurt
pasta
What would you require?
Also, along the lines of food, I would like to share with you some of my favorite restaurants along the Wasatch Front and what I like to eat there!

Ottavio's 69 E. Center St., Provo
Italian
Favorite Dish: Pollo Penne Pesto--It's got pine nuts!
And for Dessert: Zabione (I doubt that I spelled that right.)
Something Special: On weekend nights you're treated to a roving accordianist.

Art City Trolley 256 N. Main, Springville
American
Favorite Dish: The Real McCoy Salad or Trolley Chicken Sandwich
Appetizer: The best buffalo wings ever!
And for Dessert: Russian Cream (She only has this when she's done some catering)
Something Special: Eating in the Trolley car

Thai Ruby 744 E. 820 N., Provo
Thai
Favorite Dish: Pad Thai or Massaman Curry (Better yet, both!)
And for Dessert: Sticky rice and mango
Not so Special: Very little parking

La Carreta 1605 S. State, Orem
Peruvian
Favorite Dish: Tallarines Mixto
Appetizer: Papas a la huancaina
Something Special: all food is cooked to order by the Peruvian lady who owns the place

Zupas 408 W. 2230 N., Provo
Soups and Salads
Favorite Dish: Nuts About Berries salad and Tomato Basil soup with Orzo
Something Special: You get some fresh baked bread and a chocolate covered strawberry with every meal!

The Cinegrill 344 S. 300 E., Salt Lake City
Italian
Favorite Dish: Continental Lasagna with the Cinegrill tossed green salad
Something Special: Live dinner music every night

Rusted Sun Pizzeria 2010 S. State, Salt Lake City
Pizza, etc.
Favorite Dish: Ham and Pineapple Calzone with green peppers added
And for Dessert: Root beer float (made with Breyer's vanilla ice cream)
Something Special: ANY calzone there is something special!

New York Burrito 934 N. State, Orem
Burritos, wraps, etc.
Favorite Dish: Marinated chicken burrito - tomato basil tortilla w/ black beans & spanish rice
And for Dessert: Sub-zero icecream made with custard with pina colada strawberry mix-ins
Something Special: The ice cream is made in front of you using liquid nitrogen to freeze fresh cream or custard or yogurt

Two to Tango 180 W. Center, Orem
Argentine
Favorite Dish: Milanesa Napolitana or Milanesa Completa sandwich
And for Dessert: an eclair type thing filled with dulce de leche
Something Special: LOTS of yummy looking fresh pastry options for dessert

MMMM... All this talk of food has made me very hungry.
Go out and try these places and let me know what you think!

A Trip to the Health Clinic

2005-08-29T16:40:00.000-06:00

Today, Moira had her 4 month immunizations. As I held my smiling, cooing, soon to be betrayed infant facing the evil nemisis in the form of a male Latino nurse with bright red scrubs, I had to wonder, as I have many times, with all our technology and scientific advances, why have we not found a nicer way to administer immunizations!?!
So I asked the kind, compentant, and accomodating male Latino nurse in bright red scrubs, why must we traumatize our wee ones with such barbaric practices? Don't get me wrong, I fully agree with and support mass immunization. We are much better off without polio, measles, mumps, rubella, etc., etc., etc. And I also think that those who refuse to immunize their children should be quarantined and given the afformentioned diseases. At best, I think they are ignorant, at worst, selfish and destructive.
But, I digress. Said nurse replied with some nonsense about immunity being in the blood stream and the immunizations being too fragile to be ingested. Ha! I just don't think anyone has tried hard enough to figure out a solution. Either that or it's just another way The Man is gettin' us down!
But what do you think?

Babies, Children, and Body Image

2005-08-26T21:41:00.000-06:00

I'm just figuring out this whole blog thing, so things may be a bit rough for a while.
I wanted to title this posting "Babies, Children, and Body Image," but I don't have a place to put a title on this. Maybe it's the template I chose. Maybe I'm a little "Blog challenged."

Today at dinner, my six year old was eating a chicken breast and I noticed a bit of fat on the piece he was about to eat. I took it off and told him it was fat and he shouldn't eat it. He asked, "What is fat?"(Later on at dinner he asked what an Ice Age was and I realized I hadn't paid enough attention in science when I was in school.) I mumbled something about not burning all the calories you take in, but then I thought how nice it would be to not know what fat is. How different would I view my body if I didn't know what fat is. I wouldn't feel bad, I don't think, that I still have 12 pounds of baby fat to lose and a whole size to go before I fit into my prepregnancy clothes. I would buy the kind of ice cream that tastes the best. If I could just see me as a person and not a flabby, frumpy house frau, how would that change my self image?
Whenever I put her in front of a mirror, she grins like she's just seen the best thing since full breasts. She loves what she sees in the mirror--and her thighs look chunkier than mine! (It's true that she is the cutest darn thing I've seen since her brother was that age.) I want her to always smile when she looks in the mirror. I want to always smile when I look in the mirror. Can I change what I feel is important about the way I look. Can I accept a neat appearance and a bright countenance as a perfect reflection, blemishes, wrinkles, bags under the eyes and all?
My aunt lived in South Africa for a few years. She once met an old woman who had lived her life in a village away from "civilization." My aunt took a polaroid of her. When she saw what would be the first ever image of herself, she cried, "I like me!"
How wonderful is that! As a parent, I want my children to be able to look in the mirror with a smile and say, "I like me!" But I think I have to realize that for myself first.
I have decided to start the next time I look in the mirror, and every subsequent time, to smile and say, "I like me!"